“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need,” I say, then slide my fingers through her one more time, watching her shudder, then shudder again as I stroke myself.
I straddle her chest and slide my slick cock between her breasts, give a few quick pumps, then stop when she darts out her tongue. “You want a taste of me?”
“I really do.”
I move higher, offering her my dick.
She parts her lips so perfectly, so seamlessly. Yes, she’s letting go indeed.
I give her an inch, and she takes it, flicking her tongue all over the head. My thighs are shaking. My brain is scrambling.
“I’m close,” I mutter, then shift back down to her tits.
She squeezes them again, offering me the fantastic valley between them. And I take, and I fuck, till I’m eaten alive by pleasure and coming all over this woman.
When I collapse next to her, both of us a sticky mess, she runs a hand along her breasts, drags her fingers through my release, then brings it to her mouth. She sucks me off her fingers, closes her eyes, and moans.
And right now, nothing feels fake between us.
37
THANKS FOR THE EARMUFFS
REMY
“Drop you off at your place, the arena, a sex toy shop, or some, I don’t know, glow-in-the-dark neon paint and pottery shop you’re testing for a date?”
Lake poses the question as we cruise across the Golden Gate Bridge the next day, the Pacific Ocean unfurling endlessly to the right, with choppy waves cutting through the dark water.
I give him a playful look. “Just dropping ‘sex toy shop’ in the middle of them.” Is he trying to tell me something? Like, he wants to use one on me? The zip of electricity through my body is saying,You know you want him to.
“Sex toy shops are always a good idea.” He smirks. “For dates and all.”
“Ah, so you’re just being oh so helpful and suggesting I recommend it for clients,” I say, nodding a few times likeright, of course I buy that.
“Yup. I bet it’d be a big hit,” he says dryly. Then in a curious tone, he asks, “Have you ever had a client that wanted that? Like a sexier type of date? Maybe a strip club, or something like that?”
“I actually planned a sex toy shop tour for two women, and they said it was the best date night of their lives.”
“If you want to test it for yourself, you just let me know, Remy,” he says with that familiar confidence in his tone.
Is he asking me on a date of sorts? Maybe but I’m not entirely sure. This might be like the nap lesson, or it might be an offhand remark about sex toys. I don’t want to read into it or assume he’s suggesting something when he’s not. “Noted. But also, if you know of a glow-in-the-dark neon paint and pottery shop and are holding out on me, you’re in big trouble.”
“Nope but I’m sure there is one somewhere, someplace,” he says, a smile shifting his lips.
Lake’s smiled more these last couple of days than I’ve seen in the past. He looks good when he smiles. I like that maybe I’m responsible.
“No doubt,” I say, then return to his original question. “My place is fine. I have to meet Caroline at the shower venue so we can review the setup. And then I’m going to the arena for a meeting with Daniel.”
“Busy day,” he says, his smile slowly slipping away as we cruise off the bridge, the road dipping down toward the Marina. He slows at a red light, his brow furrowed, then turns his gaze briefly to me. He doesn’t speak right away. Just flexes his hands tighter around the wheel, then loosens them. Clears his throat. “I had a really good time, Remy.”
Sounds like it cost him something to say that. Looks like it did too. My heart softens, and a part of me—the part of me that’s taking up a lot more space lately—wants to planall the datesfor us.
Wants to find that glow-in-the-dark paint and pottery shop.
Is chomping at the bit to plot a risqué night of sex toy shopping.
Craves planning a simple night out at a bird supply store to check out feeders and baths, then take him to a cat café. He’d like that, I bet. All of it.
